


the fear won't let me sleep

by TotallynotRemus



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Ghosts, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, No Incest, Non-Consensual Touching, Not Beta Read We Die Like Ben, Post-Season/Series 01, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, of a non-sexual nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallynotRemus/pseuds/TotallynotRemus
Summary: There’s only so long a person can go without sleep. Klaus would know, it’s not the first time he’s pushed the limits.For the Bad Things Happen bingo - Non-Consensual Touching.
Relationships: Dave Katz/Klaus Hargreeves (Referenced), Diego Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514339
Comments: 20
Kudos: 333





	the fear won't let me sleep

**Author's Note:**

> hahah what me, writing his oneshot since i watched the first season when it came out and only finishing it now a few hours before the second season? hahah what don't speak nonsense
> 
> (Thank you Sara, Roo and Lem for helping me fight this fic <3)

There’s only so long a person can go without sleep.

Klaus would know, it’s not the first time he’s pushed the limits. 

With all the ghosts and the nightmares, he’d already been well-versed in the arts of sleep deprivation by the time he’d hit ten, and only got better at it with time and age as he learned new tricks. After all, who needs sleep when you have cocaine? But at least then he had the help of a few uppers to keep his energy up and running, an endless list of vices to keep him distracted, while now that he’s (unfortunately, boringly, _painfully)_ sober he only has, well, himself. And he’s struggling to keep himself afloat.

Shit, it’s been a month now since the apocalypse-that-wasn’t. Things should be fine by now.

And they are! Kind of. 

Things _are_ slowly getting better, for everyone involved. Dearie Vanya is learning about her powers and how much she’s loved by them all while still keeping with her violin practices even though she doesn’t feel ready yet to go back to an orchestra, Allison is trying to mend what’s left of her relationship with Patrick and to earn back her right to have Claire in her arms again, Luther’s still getting used to not being alone anymore and to breathing without the heavy weight of Dad’s glare and the whole Number One thing on his shoulders, Ben couldn’t be happier now that he’s able to talk with the rest of their siblings again, Diego is finally learning how to relax like a normal human being and Five actually _smiled_ a few days ago. Five! Smiling! And it didn’t even scream murder.

One by one, they’re all learning how to be a family again and how to heal from the things Dad did to them and the scars it left behind.

And, in theory, so is Klaus.

Except that there’s that one little detail that he still. can’t. fucking. sleep.

Klaus would almost worry about turning into Five with the amount of caffeine he’s been drinking recently if not for the fact that for one, he’s not a grumpy elderly time-travelling assassin stuck in a thirteen-years-old body and he doesn’t think he’d be able to successfully pull off the whole vibe necessary for that, and b, coffee fucking sucks and every cup he drinks is torture on his tongue, and no amount of sugar and milk he pours into it helps it be any less unbearable. He has no idea how his littlest older brother can like the stuff, honestly. 

That’s how Diego finds him, drinking alone in the middle of the night while making faces at his favorite mug as if it had insulted him.

(It’s the one he personalized himself when he was fourteen, taking the boring white mug with his number on it and dipping it in all of his paints, making it an eye-sore psychedelic dream with a crude ‘Klaus’ painted on it in black. He’d forgotten about it, after he left the Academy behind.)

(It’s still perfect, even after all those years. He loves it.)

Klaus ignores him for now, hugging his legs closer to his chest and pretending to not notice Diego watching him from the kitchen entrance like the batman-wannabe he truly is— Diego will eventually say what he wants to say anyway, there’s no point in rushing him. Instead, Klaus continues to drink his coffee and smoke his cigarette in silence, waiting for his brother to speak out. 

He doesn’t need to wait for long.

“You know you can just drink tea instead, right?” Diego asks, coming to sit on the chair across from him. "If you hate coffee that much."

“Well hello to you too, mein bruder. How are you on this fine evening?” Klaus asks back instead of answering, forcing a smile on his face despite how exhausted he feels as he finally looks at his brother. He pauses. “Wait, tea has caffeine?”

Klaus looks around the room searching for Ben, wanting to whine about not being told about it and make it as over the top as possible now that the others believe him about it (and isn’t that a marvel?), before remembering that Ben’s not there and there’s no point in it. He sighs. Truth be told, he already knew and was just too lazy to get some for himself, and since coffee is always available at the house now that Five’s back and forced them to buy him a coffee machine, well. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Still. That’s just rude.

Diego snorts, which is even ruder. “It’s three am, not much of an evening anymore,” he points out. “Is Ben here?”

The question is asked softly, the same way the rest of their siblings always sound whenever talking about Ben— like they still can barely believe he’s there with them, that he’s always been there— their voice full of hesitance and wonder and _hope._ Klaus would be offended if he didn’t know it never failed to make Ben’s face light up to be acknowledged by the others.

“Nah. He’s off doing whatever good ghost brothers do when Klauses are asleep or _busy,_ ” Klaus answers, wriggling his eyebrows and emphasizing the word to make obvious exactly what kind of busy he meant, though Diego only huffs and rolls his eyes at him. 

Boring.

“Why?”

Diego shrugs, not really giving an answer. He nods at the mug in Klaus’ hands. “Can’t sleep?”

Now that’s an understatement if he ever heard one. Beyond a few catnaps here and there that always end with Klaus jumping out of whatever furniture he’d fallen asleep on (more times than not, the couch or the bathtub, though at one point it’d been on top of the kitchen table) and startling whoever is around, he doesn’t think he’s been able to sleep at all in these past few weeks.

He’s pretty sure Five is one snappish remark away from stabbing him.

Klaus hums his agreement, taking another sip of his coffee before twisting his nose in disgust at the taste. Gross.

His brother frowns. “You haven’t been sleeping right all week. You okay?”

He’s not, but it’s not like he can just _say it._

“It’s fine, it’s fine. A little insomnia never killed anyone,” Klaus says instead, waving him off. “I’m used to it.”

Which probably would’ve been very convincing, if in that exact moment a ghost with a slashed throat and blood dripping down her dress hadn’t grabbed for him, startling the shit out of Klaus and making him flinch so hard that in an instant Diego is on his feet again, with his guard up and a knife already in hands as he looks around searching for the threat.

Luckily, the contact only lasts a second before her hands pass through him again, to the ghost’s displeasure and Klaus’ utmost relief.

“What was _that,_ ” Diego demands, the knife now pointed at him once it’s clear there’s no enemy present, and it’s not a question. Shit.

Klaus knows his brother enough to not be intimidated in the slightest— Diego is pure marshmallow inside, all that posturing only an attempt to hide his mother-hen nature, and besides, knives simply aren’t that scary when you grow up with Diego as a brother.

He also knows him well enough to know he won’t let it go.

“Nothing,” Klaus says once he thinks he’s got his breathing under control again. It sounds unconvincing even to his own ears but, well, it doesn’t hurt to try. He’s too tired to care either way. “Just, you know. Silly me. Thought I saw something.” 

God, he wishes it was just that.

The ghost screams at him, trying fruitlessly to touch him again— what once might’ve been a handsome face warped by centuries-old despair, her screeches only making more blood spill from her gruesome wound and Klaus can’t help but grimace at the sight, quickly looking away— but at least that he can deal with. Maybe not well, but still. It’s nothing new. He’s used to sudden gory apparitions, to ear-piercing screams and disjointed ramblings, and though it all terrifies him still, he’s long since learned to ignore it and pretend it’s not there with the good ol’ reliable denial— or at the very least to ignore it until his next fix, though that’s not an option anymore.

It’s worth it. Staying sober and trying to learn more about his powers, letting them grow— he’s learned how to make Ben corporeal for longer now, sometimes even hours at a time. He’d never, ever resent Ben for it. The joy on his brother’s face at being able to speak with others and be seen again makes it all be worth it. Knowing he’s able to do this for him.

But.

Ben’s not the only ghost around and Klaus can still barely control his old powers, even less this new facet of them. He can’t ignore the cold dead hands that grab him at random, pulling and scratching and touching desperate for even if just a piece of life again, and he can’t ignore the dread that makes his skin crawl, the fear. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend and continue as normal when he’s getting jumpscared whenever he manages to let his guard down, never letting him rest. 

Turns out life wasn’t done throwing more nightmare materials at him. Oh no, not even close to it. For some reason, he really thought the torture and the fucking Vietnam war would be the last surprises.

How optimistic of him.

He shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant. “It was nothing, must’ve been the lack of sleep.”

So maybe it’s not his best lie, sue him, but Klaus’ gotten away with way less. Sure, that was before this whole ‘let’s all hold hands together and be a family again’ ordeal, but things can’t have changed that much, right? Hopefully Diego will either buy the flimsy excuse at face value or he’ll take the hint and let it go for once in his life, as unlikely as it sounds.

And, who knows. Maybe if he says it enough times it’ll become true.

Diego raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, before something seems to dawn on him and his face softens, looking a lot sadder than he has any right to be. The sight of it makes Klaus’ stomach churn. He misses the time when nobody paid him any mind.

_(Liar.)_

“The ghosts?” Diego guesses, and Klaus knows his wince gives him away before he could even think to try and deny it.

He nods defeated, the fake-cheeriness slipping away as Klaus lets out a sigh that sounds as tired as he feels, not quite able to voice it out loud as if afraid it would instigate a reaction from the rest of the rotting corpses that only stare at him from the corners of the room (for now). There’s no point in denying it now, he supposes. The cat is already out of the bag— or is it the ghost?

Klaus wonders what his brother thinks of it, if he’s trying to picture what he thinks is happening or if he’ll just dismiss it as weakness; typical Klaus and his need for attention and to always make everything seem worse than it is, too afraid of the dark to be able to control his own powers.

Honestly, he doesn’t know which option he prefers.

They’ve talked about the ghosts a few times, during their weekly family meetings and usually heavily encouraged by Ben, as Klaus would rather do anything _but_ talk about his powers, but most of the time it’s still a roll of the dice as to how his siblings react to them despite how understanding they may seem during such talks. Klaus gets it. It’s hard to understand when you can’t see it for yourself, to unlearn what you’ve always assumed was the truth and was never given a reason to think otherwise.

Does Diego think he’s in danger of relapsing? 

He couldn’t blame him if he did, even if the thought stings— it’s what’s expected of him, after all. Klaus may be sober now but that doesn’t erase almost two decades worth of lying and stealing and hurting his own family for a high. He dug his own grave years ago.

And it’s not like Klaus didn’t consider it.

He keeps his eyes down, trying to keep his focus on everything from the coffee droplets that now stain the long sleeves of his sweater to his hands and how there’s barely any nail polish left on his nails from how much he’s been chewing on them. He should probably fix that soon. Maybe he could invite Allison and Vanya to do it too, make it a sibling bonding moment. That would be nice.

He lets out another sigh.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t ma— Klaus, what? Of course it matters.” There’s a noise as a chair is dragged closer, and then Diego is sitting next to him, trying and failing to get him to make eye contact. “Of course it matters, bro. _You_ matter. If things are this bad, if it’s not letting you sleep…”

Klaus looks up sharply, ignoring his own surprise at the words and how they make his heart ache. “I never said—” 

“You didn’t have to. Come on, it’s not hard to put two and two together,” Diego says. The hand on his shoulder makes him jump until he notices how _warm_ it is, how grounding. “You don’t have to hide this shit.”

But he does. He always had to, never learned how to do anything else.

The only person he ever truly let in was Dave and well, we all know how _that_ turned out.

Diego seems to take his silence as an answer once it lasts a second too long, and amends, “At least, not anymore. I know we’ve all been shitty siblings to each other, especially to you and Vanya. But we’re trying to do better, yeah? To be here for each other. You gotta meet us halfway there.”

Klaus nods, despite not being so sure himself. It’s easier said than done.

He doesn’t answer immediately, but Diego doesn’t push. Instead his brother waits for him to organize his thoughts, knowing personally how hard it can be sometimes to open up and that it doesn’t come naturally to any of them, as he casually fidgets with a knife at his side as if to prove there’s no rush for him to speak. It’s… surprisingly thoughtful of him. It only serves to disarm Klaus further.

Klaus almost wishes Ben was there to nag him into talking. It’d be easier then, he thinks.

Or maybe not, considering the subject.

“I’m not about to relapse,” Klaus starts, a little desperate for Diego to believe in him despite not having earned that trust yet. But he feels like he needs to at least _try._ Klaus picks at his sleeves, nervous, and hates himself for it. “It’s not like that.”

“I didn’t think you were,” Diego is quick to assure, and Klaus doesn’t know if he really believes him.

That’s alright. It doesn’t make the words any less reassuring, taking a weight off his shoulders that he hadn’t even noticed was there— he hadn’t known how much the fear of disappointing his siblings again was weighing him down until now.

He looks at his right hand, surprised to find the redness there. When had he started to scratch at it?

“I keep making them real,” he finally says, more of a sob than a phrase, voice so quiet it almost goes unheard with all the noise of the dead in the corner. It’s not a problem for Diego though, who frowns and looks at him puzzled. He gives him a sad excuse of a smile, feeling tired beyond his years. “I keep making them real, Diego, and they won’t leave me alone, day and night, and they just— they’re so _desperate._ They won’t stop touching me, whenever they have a chance— whenever I try to sleep or stop paying attention. I don’t know how to stop them.”

He isn’t sure if it’s even possible to.

Klaus wraps his arms around himself, looking up only to regret it and look away once more when he catches sight of Diego gaping at him speechless. This is why he didn’t want to say anything. What could Diego possibly say to him? He has no way to understand it, no way to stop what’s happening and help. So what’s the point in even saying anything at all?

Still, Klaus keeps going.

He raises one of the sleeves of his stolen sweater, showing off the scratches and handprints marking his skin and hoping— praying, really— that his brother doesn’t notice the other scars there, older and more obvious in their origins. If he does, Diego doesn’t mention it.

“And I’m trying, you know? To learn how to control my powers. For Ben, for— for myself, too. For _Dave,”_ Klaus continues, and the name feels sacred on his tongue. He lets it linger for a moment, savors it, not ready to let go yet. “But I just, I don’t know how to stop them, Diego. I _can’t_ stop them. I feel like I’m slowly going insane.”

Maybe he already is.

Or maybe he’s simply too weak to do it, just like Daddy Dearest always said. A disappointment through and through.

Klaus wonders if this is punishment, for everything he's done wrong in life. To his family, to strangers and acquaintances alike— to enemies and civilians alike.

To Dave, who was the only one who's ever made him feel like a person, like he was worthy of something; who loved him and, just as astonishing, who he loved back, wholly and religiously, and yet Klaus let him die anyway, when instead he should've had his back. He had their salvation with him the entire time, didn't he? Hidden amongst his equipment, in the shape of an unsuspecting, battered briefcase. Klaus could've gotten them out of there at any moment, spared them from spilt blood that chipped away parts of their souls bit by bit, battle by battle. But he'd been too much of a coward to ask— and it always comes back to it in the end, it's always, always about fear with him— too scared to offer his heart on a plate only to hear a no for an answer. Or, even more terrifyingly, a yes, and everything that would follow it.

Then Dave died, taking with him any hope they had for a future together, and Klaus ran. Opened the cursed briefcase with shaking hands still drenched in blood and didn't look back.

If this is meant to be his punishment, he wonders if that means he deserves it, and thinks that the answer is yes, he does.

He deserves a lot more than that.

Klaus startles when an arm pulls him into Diego's shoulder without warning, and only then he realizes he's crying, shaking with silent sobs that escape from him without his permission. He melts into the embrace, letting it comfort him as his hands grab onto the fabric of the patched turtleneck despite the embarrassment he feels at how pathetic he must seen right now. Diego doesn't say it's alright, doesn't lie and tell him he's okay either; instead he just stands there and shushes him, pulling him tighter despite the tears that now drench his shoulder, as if they're eleven years old again and Klaus went running after his big brother after another nightmare.

"We'll figure it out, yeah? You're not alone in this, bro. I'm here for you," Diego assures him once the crying has calmed down a little, his voice sure and a lot more soothing than Klaus would be happy to admit. Somehow, the asshole is good at this, despite having the emotional maturity of a rock. It's not fair. "You know how Five gets when he sinks his teeth on something, the little prick will find a way to help, you'll see. We got you."

Klaus nods, too exhausted and cried out to do anything more than that. Can't even find it in himself to try and open his eyes.

"We got you."

…

Klaus wakes up six hours later, more rested than he's felt in weeks and on his own bed despite not remembering having gone upstairs last night— actually, despite not remembering falling asleep at all. Diego must've carried him then, though how he was able to take him up two rolls of stairs Klaus can't be sure. Speaking of the Devil, he can see Diego sleeping by the foot of the bed, his body positioned as if ready to spring into action at any sudden noise for all that he looks ridiculous sinking into one of his old beanbags and will surely suffer for it later, especially his neck. Ouch. 

Klaus smiles at the sight, grateful beyond belief. Pure marshmallow indeed.

Two days later Five corners him after breakfast, spouting about theories and a new foolproof training regiment for him, just as promised. Klaus never once thought he'd be this excited to hear the words special training in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please don't forget to give kudos if you liked it and leave a comment telling me your thoughts, they feed the hungry author's soul! <3 Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Feel free to talk to me on tumblr @ my tua blog bentacles-hargreeves, or even @ my main remuslupinsmiled, where I'm up to talk about literally anything and am almost always online!


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